welcome
to yoururl.blogspot.com
be my escape- relient k
I’ve given up on giving up slowly, I’m blending in so
You won’t even know me apart from this whole world that shares my fate
This one last bullet you mention is my one last shot at redemption
because I know to live you must give your life away
And I’ve been housing all this doubt and insecurity and
I’ve been locked inside that house all the while You hold the key
And I’ve been dying to get out and that might be the death of me
And even though, there’s no way in knowing where to go, promise I’m going because
I gotta get outta here
I’m stuck inside this rut that I fell into by mistake
I gotta get outta here
And I’m begging You, I’m begging You, I’m begging You to be my escape.
I’m giving up on doing this alone now
Cause I’ve failed and I’m ready to be shown how
He’s told me the way and I’m trying to get there
And this life sentence that I’m serving
I admit that I’m every bit deserving
But the beauty of grace is that it makes life not fair
Cause I’ve been housing all this doubt and insecurity and
I’ve been locked inside that house all the while You hold the key
And I’ve been dying to get out and that might be the death of me
And even though, there’s no way in knowing where to go, promise I’m going because
I gotta get outta here
Cause I’m afraid that this complacency is something I can’t shake
I gotta get outta here
And I’m begging You, I’m begging You, I’m begging You to be my escape.
I am a hostage to my own humanity
Self detained and forced to live in this mess I’ve made
And all I’m asking is for You to do what You can with me
But I can’t ask You to give what You already gave
Cause I’ve been housing all this doubt and insecurity and
I’ve been locked inside that house all the while you hold the key
And I’ve been dying to get out and that might be the death of me
And even though, there’s no way in knowing where to go, promise I’m going because
I’ve gotta get outta here
I’m stuck inside this rut that I fell into by mistake
I’ve gotta get outta here
And I’m begging You, I’m begging You, I’m begging
You to be my escape.
I fought You for so long
I should have let You in
Oh how we regret those things we do
And all I was trying to do was save my own skin
But so were You
So were You
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Title:
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The past.
2 simple words that evoke so many memories.
17 years of life, but yet a million and one recollections. Some happy, some sad, but all memorable. Sometimes, I sit on the bus, reminiscing about the past. Thinking about the mistakes I've made with friends, in life. Wondering what went wrong. Pondering the many choices I've made, asking myself the same old questions over and over again as the music from my ipod pulsates through my head.
A thousand different images flashes in front of your eyes, bringing back feelings so strong that one finds it hard to catch one's breath in that moment. Some images are in color, some in black and white. Some vivid, some blur. Some happy, some painful, some bittersweet. All history.
And it always hurts.
Ripping old wounds open with a vegenence that brings tears to your eyes. Carving new wounds in your heart so deep you feel faint in the glare of the bright sunlight. Rubbing salt into healing wounds that you yourself didn't know exist with a fierce strength.
You close your eyes and suck in a lungful of air, finding it harder and harder to breathe with every passing minute. The weight of your memories press hard against your ribs, crushing your lungs as your world begins to grow bleak. You start to breathe harder, faster, your eyelids desperately fighting a losing battle against the hot tears that threaten to fall and your fingers clench together unknowingly, trying to force the memories away with all the brute strength you possess in you.
But it's all useless. One image leads to another which leads to hundred other memories. Each memory pushing the knife a little deeper into your heart. Your throat closes in and it's impossible to speak or make a sound, any sound to express all the pain within. Your head threatens to burst, and you wished you had a gun to put yourself out of this misery. It hurts so bad that the pain within actually manifests itself into a physical aching of your chest, which tightens up considerably, as if eager to squeeze all your life out.
The warm air blowing from the vents turns chilly, goosebumps form on your arms, and you start to feel cold. Not a the-temperature's-too-low kind of cold, but a insane-impossible-to-explain type of chill that radiates from the core of your body. And your ipod, left on shuffle, always chooses this moment to play THAT song. That song which accompanied you on the best days of your life. That song that you will never forget. That song.
That hurts.
